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16—47372-3 OPO 



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BY N.' K? B 






Washington, D. C: 

RuFus H. Darby, Printer, 

1881. 



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Copyright Secured, 




THE ^IDE FOR LIFE. 



^•3^ 

PPIE mists of the morning languidly lie 
On the blue Potomac river ; 
^^^ And the stately city— the nation's own— 
^ Is softly breathing a calm undertone 
Of prayer, to the great Life-Giver. 

"Build a new railroad ! " ^'Quick fashion a car ! " 

The trembling wires had been saying; 
If gold is needed, then summon it forth, 
From East to the AVest, from South to the Korth, 
And let there be no delaying. 




And Science and Skill, with the loving heart 

( )f the great, true nation guiding, 
When the stars were out, and the night was still, 
Made rough ways smooth, and had worked with a will 

To God their labor^confiding. 

And all the way from the masterly brain, 

That set the swift wheels in motion, 
To the brawny arm that wielded a pick, 
Or that laid the rails for the nation's Sick, 

Shone the same sublime devotion. 



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And now, at the gates of the mansion grand, 

In the still, September morning, 
With uncovered head, a sorrowful throng, 
That has hoped, and feared, and waited so long. 

Has grasped fresh faith with the dawning. 

For lo ! from the portals, " One borne of four," 

T'ike the one in stor}^ olden, 
Is carried for healing, and who shall say, 
That the Great Physician may not to-day 

Be there, though their "eyes be holden." 




Then out thro' the Capital's busy ways, 

Behold them tenderly moving ; 
With slow, noiseless wheel o'er the'sodden street, 

E'en the beasts now bearing with careful feet, 
Seem human devotion proving. 

Now, light as the dew-fall on meadow grass, 

On his swinging couch to slumber. 
The loved one is laid, while on wings of wind^ 
Leaving assassin and horror behind. 

Swift-flying hours they number. ' 



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An instant's delay, a moment's neglect, 

Might plunge in sorrow our nation ! 
But switches are turnel by a faithful hand, 
And true to a minute the signals stand, 
Without shade of deviation ! 

The artisan raises his tattered hat, 

As the train is past him flying ; 
And the busy housewife, at open door 
Is watching, till tear-blind, she. sees no more, 

And turns to her labor sighing. 




No potentate grand in the olden world, 

No crowned head in song, or story, 
E'er won more loyal devotion than he, 
Our nncrowned King in his ride to the sea, 
( )ar conntr3^'8 pride, and its glory ! 

The distance is measured — Elberon reached. 

While the soft sea waves are ringing 
A welcome grand, to the sultering Chief, 
Who longed for their music with patient grief 
Sublime as the chant they're singing ! 



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And da}' after day, as the bright, blue waves 

On Elberon's shore are breaking, 
The life-tide, ebbing and flowing away, 
Gives to hope and fear each alternate sway. 
While an anxious nation's waiting. 

Waiting, did I say ? Ah, no nevermore ! 

Shall it wait for word or token ; 
A sob in the music, unheard before. 
As the sad waves kiss fair Elberon's shore. 

Has the grief of thousands spoken ! 



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'Twas only a "station," and not the end, 
"Where our Soldier brave was stranded; 
The journey is over, the patient soul 
Has finished at last, and has reached the goal, 
And safe at his home has landed. 

And fairer than Elberon's wave-washed beach, 

Is the shore his feet are pressing; 
And a sweeter song than the sea-waves bring, 
Is the grand chorale which the angels sing — 
A sons; of heavenlv blessins;. 




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'Twas a ride for life our brave Chieftain dared, 
Far away from death's dark portal; 

A ride to the shore of the boundless sea; 

'Twas not a defeat, but a victory ! 
A journey to life immortal! 

The Nation still lives, still living her Chief, 

Enshrined in her heart forever ! 
For while she laments o'er his sleeping dust, 
" The people, the people " — " My trust, my trust," 

Speak of ties death cannot sever. 




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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

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